


An Easy Job

by The_neigh_sayer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_neigh_sayer/pseuds/The_neigh_sayer
Summary: Arthur takes John on his first job. A supposedly easy house robbery doesn’t go quite as expected.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	An Easy Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



“Arthur, I got a job for you.” Arthur looked up from his journal to see Hosea walking toward him. He snapped the journal shut. “What kinda job?”

Hosea stopped in front of him, his hands on his hips. “A house robbery. The owner is as crooked as they come: deals in stolen antiques, has a lot of money, but is a drunk and useless. I’ve checked this out and it should be pretty easy. And it’s not too far from here.” He handed him a piece of paper with directions to the house and how to get inside it undetected.

Arthur stood from his cot, buckling his gun belt and putting his hat on. “Sounds good. I’ve been needing something to do.”

As he started toward his horse Hosea stopped him in his tracks when he said, “Why don’t you take John along with you?”

Arthur slowly turned to him. “John? You can’t be serious.”

Hosea held his arms out in a shrug. “It’ll be an easy job, Arthur. In and out. He needs the practice, and you’re a good one to teach him. He’s gotta get out on a job sometime.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head. “If you say so. If he’s killed, it’s not my fault.”

Hosea chuckled. “You’ll both be fine, Arthur. Now go get him and get it done.” He waved him off and walked away.

Arthur grumbled to himself as he approached John in camp. John’s first job. He knew this day would come, but he hadn’t been looking forward to it. Being a cocky 16-year-old, John was a bit of a hothead. He had a temper and not much patience. And he still had a few of his wild child tendencies from his days on the street. So, this job should be fun. He rolled his eyes.

“Marston. Hosea wants us to go do a house robbery together.”

John looked up at him from his seat by the fire, his brow furrowed. “Really? Both of us?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. Get whatever you need and let’s go. It’s supposed to be easy, so, all you’ll really need is guns and ammo.”

Arthur left him to scramble around, excitedly getting ready.

They rode out a few minutes later. As they neared the house, Arthur gave John a breakdown of how they were going to do it. They rode into a stand of trees near the house, dismounted, grabbed their guns, and crept up to the house. They stopped under a window and Arthur peeked inside; he saw a man lying in bed, sprawled out, dead to the world. Hopefully in a drunken stupor.

They snuck around to the back door and Arthur tried the knob—unlocked. They crept in. Hosea’s note indicated this guy kept a bunch of money in the house-they just had to find it.

They searched the house and found a few pieces of jewelry and a couple of coin purses, then Arthur found the prize—a stack of bills hidden in the back of a cabinet. He gave John a thumbs up and pointed toward the back door. John headed that way, Arthur behind him.

As John reached for the knob on the back door he heard a metallic thunk followed by a thud. He spun around to see Arthur in a heap on the floor, the homeowner’s gun pointed at John’s face. In a flash, John’s gun was out of its holster, and he closed his eyes and fired. He opened his eyes to see the man on the floor, blood seeping out of a hole in his forehead. It was his first kill. Alarms and sirens went off in his head. Lawmen would surely be on their way—he’d just killed a man. He envisioned a hangman’s noose, and his flight instincts kicked in.

He ran. His brain was completely devoid of thought other than RUNRUNRUN. It was like a flashing sign behind his eyes. And so he did. Blindly, through woods, barely avoiding trees in the dark. He just ran. His breath coming in short, fast gulps.

Suddenly he heard a voice in his head that sounded like Dutch that said simply, “Stop.” So he did. He looked around as if he’d just woken up, unsure of where he was. Suddenly he heard another voice. His own.

“Arthur.”

He’d left Arthur at the house.

He ran again, this time back toward the house. He wasn’t sure where exactly the house was or how far, but he felt like he was heading in the right direction, tracing his erratic steps.

He saw the light from the house ahead and nearly let out a sob of relief.

He crashed through the back door to find Arthur and the dead man lying in the same places he’d left them.

He reached down, grabbing Arthur under his arms and pulled. He barely budged. He pulled him again—barely moved. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and pulled with everything he had. It didn’t feel like he moved at all.

Overwhelmed, he sunk to the floor, tears of frustration and anger running down his face. What was he going to do? He was way too small to move Arthur; he hadn’t grown a lot over the years and Arthur was a good foot taller than him and easily had 100 pounds on him.

He looked at Arthur, suddenly resenting him for bringing him along. He wanted to kick him while he sat there.

He put his face in his hands, feeling utterly helpless. He just knew this was his fault. What were Hosea and Dutch going to say? Or do to him? The thought of running away came into his mind when he heard someone approaching the house. He stiffened, quietly drew his revolver, and aimed it at the open door.

Footsteps grew louder as they approached and suddenly a head peaked around the corner. It was dark, but the moonlight revealed the identity: Hosea.

John dropped his gun and slumped, letting out a sob of relief. Hosea stepped into the house, found a nearby oil lamp and lit it. He stood there, taking in the scene. “John, are you alright?”

John nodded, unable to speak. Hosea knelt down, feeling for a pulse on Arthur, finding it strong. He looked at John. “You boys were taking so long I thought it best to check on you. What happened?”

John finally found his voice and the words came out in a rush. “The guy snuck up on us as we were leaving, he hit Arthur, & I shot him. And I thought the law would be coming so I ran away, but then I remembered Arthur so I came back, but I couldn’t lift him. I’m so sorry, Hosea, it’s all my fault!”

Hosea sat next to John on the floor. “How is this your fault, John?”

He sniffled and shrugged. “I dunno, just seemed like I did something wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, John. You hear me? This was all out of your control. This was your first job, you didn’t know how to handle it, that’s understandable. You got it? You did nothing wrong.”

John nodded, wiping his face. Hosea patted him on the knee, then stood. “Come on. Together we can get Arthur onto his horse.”

Hosea whistled for the horses, and picked Arthur up under his arms while John got his feet. They struggled, but got him slung over his horse. Then they headed back to camp, the horizon to the East turning blue from inky black as the sun began to rise, the silence between them broken intermittently by John’s sniffling.

The next day, Arthur had roused and thankfully only suffered a headache from the incident. Hosea had filled him in on what happened, and suggested he talk to John about it.

John had been avoiding him, afraid he was going to be angry and hit him. He was busy feeding the horses and didn’t hear Arthur coming up behind him, so he jumped when Arthur spoke. “Hey, uh, Hosea told me about what happened last night.”

John looked at him, shrunk back, waiting for the blows to come. When he didn’t say anything, Arthur continued. “Thank you for coming back for me. I know that was scary for you. And I’m sorry it happened. I was leading the job, so it was my responsibility to make sure nothing like that happened. Plus, if I had been by myself, that guy may have killed me. So, thank you. And, I’m sorry.”

John was stunned. HE was sorry? John was so sure it was somehow all his own fault. All he could think to reply was a shaky, quiet, “okay.”

Arthur smiled, ruffled John’s hair, and walked away.


End file.
